Hollows Can't Cry
by PAK88
Summary: It's widely regarded that fighting Sif is one of the most tragic moments in the series and this story strives to explore the Chosen's thoughts and feelings to said tragedy.


**Hollows Can't Cry**

Hastrel collapsed onto the hard oak that constituted much of the Darkwood Basin's 'ground'. He would have taken a breath, if he still had lungs. His armor, referred to as "Elite" Knight, as if such a moniker held any merit in this world, was battered, broken and deformed from the exhausting and painful battle that had ensued mere moments ago. His helmet, torn off and thrown to the other side of the basin, was ripped open with massive teeth marks decorating it.

It hardly mattered; Hastrel wasn't even sure if he could feel pain anymore, another "benefit" of going hollow. No, the indescribable pain came from the realization of what he had done and who he had fought.

Sif layed there, whimpering in pain as her body began to return to ash, cuts and blood covering what remained of her physical form. Hastrel, mustering the strength to stand, limped his way over to her, looking into her sorrowful eyes, an emotion he had been deprived of for so long. As he stood there, he began experiencing a sudden influx of thoughts and feelings that he thought had been long-since purged from his ever-decaying mind. For the first time in centuries he felt true sorrow and regret.

His thoughts returned to that faithful day when he confronted the Great Wolf's master and the ghastly fate that had befallen him. Even in this ever-decaying kingdom, stories of Artorias abounded among the few sane beings that remain; his heroism, bravery and dedication to his lord and his kingdom. Of all the various monikers the great knight held, the most renowned was Artlorias The Abyss Walker, an epitaph to his final act of service to the world he loved so dearly. A true hero, worthy of praise and legend, his actions yet still in vain.

To brave The Abyss itself...an act of either bravery or foolishness, was folly. The cycle of the world could not be broken, the Abyss was an unstopable force of nature that will bring an end to the world, and no ruler, however powerful, can alter its course. Hastrel's understanding of The Abyss was cursory at best, spoken in hushed tones and rumors by the few sane beings that remained in this kingdom...until he was uncerimoniasly dragged through a portal by some malevolent entity to the lost land of Oocile, the supposed origins of The Abyss and home of its accursed master.

After uncovering the harrowing secrets of the atrocities committed in this seemingly 'altruistic' kingdom, ironically being responsible for the creation of Manus The Father of The Abyss, letting lose a plague that twisted and corrupted all it touched and soon much of Oolicile became ravaged and twisted by the spreading darkness not unlike the affliction that plagued Artorias in his final moments, Hastrel finally understood the true terror and ramifications of what these fools, in their arrogance and sadism, had wrought.

Oolicile was beyond saving, The Abyss unleashed and no longer able to be contained. Though it would make little difference, Hastrel was still determined to undo Oolicile's most horrendous mistake, if only for some semblance of closure. Even confronting the great lord of The Abyss in all his monstrous terror, Hastrel could feel nothing but empathy, back when he could still feel some semblance of emotion. For all the horror and suffering The Abyss had brought to the farthest corners of the earth, none had suffered so much as the one branded as the father of such a plague.

However, this was one fight Hastrel wouldn't fight alone, as Sif, undoubtedly grateful to the Chosen for freeing her master, appeared at Hastrel's side, determined to repay the debt she owed to the one who ended her master's suffering. Once the great evil had been felled, the two courageous warriors parted ways, carrying with them the satisfaction of knowing their debts and duties had been repaid. Despite such a service, Sif could not allow her master's grave to be disturbed, regardless of who or why.

Nearly all of Sif's body had crumbled away. With the last of his strength, Hastrel reached out and placed his hand on the great wolf's head in a display of solemn respect, muttering a phrase he had never before against the countless other foes he had felled.

"I'm sorry."

As the ashes were carried away on the wind, Hastrel stood in silence for a moment before falling back to the ground, covering his wretched face with a hand and emitting a sound that could only be described as sobbing, his body convulsing as he showed the first real display of human emotion that hadn't been stripped from him.

Yet no tears flowed, for he had no eyes, no vocal cords to project his pain, no lungs to gasp or breathe, for he was no longer human and soon even these feelings will become non-existent to him. Yet he sat there, mimicking sorrow in vain.

For what's worse than wanting to cry but knowing you can't?


End file.
